Happy Endings
by allieboballie
Summary: Chuck and Blair are in love. What happens next? If you want a happy ending, try A.
1. A

Disclaimer: I do not own Gossip Girl or "Happy Endings;" all characters and initial concepts/structures belong to their respective owners.

A/N: This story was inspired by "Happy Endings" by Margaret Atwood, a really great short story I recommend everyone read (google "happy endings by margaret atwood," it should be the first hit). However, it's very different from "Happy Endings." It gives you the happy ending I want Chuck and Blair to have, which is part A, and parts B-Z are all the ways I think Chuck and Blair could get there. It's ultimately fluff, but it should be fun. This is the first fanfiction I've ever posted on here, so a review would be awesome. I know it's a weird concept (especially if you're only reading the first page because there's no plot yet, just an ending), but I think it'll be fun aaaaand you should stick around for it

* * *

Chuck and Blair are in love.

What happens next?

If you want a happy ending, try A.

A.

Chuck and Blair get their act together. After some period of time, they get married at Harold's château in the south of France. They're happy together, constantly quarreling over the smallest things and having make up sex approximately four minutes later. They have one set of identical twins (Caroline Eleanor, Brigitte Lillian), one boy (Bartholomew Harold), and one girl (Anastasia Ingrid). Between the sleeping around, perfectionism and sense of entitlement, the kids give Chuck and Blair the same grief they gave to their own parents. Blair and Chuck continue their stimulating and challenging sex life and respective careers as they nurture their kids into mature adults. They grow old. They retire. Eventually, they die. This is the end of the story.


	2. B

Disclaimer: I do not own Gossip Girl or "Happy Endings;" all characters and initial concepts/structures belong to their respective owners.

A/N: Starts during the Snowflake Ball, so Season 2. I don't know episode numbers, sorry.

* * *

B.

Bart Bass doesn't die in the car crash. In fact, there is no car crash because this isn't a fucking soap opera, people. He arrives to the Snowflake Ball on time and yells at Rufus. And at Lily. Repeat process. Blair and Chuck watch the scene with amused, sadistic smirks on their faces. Then, they disappear to suite 1812 to watch episodes of Mad Men and gorge on sushi. They can be surprisingly normal at times.

Bart decides that the van der Bass family is taking a trip to their house in Vail for winter vacation. They need to bond, he says, as a family. No outsiders allowed. Serena loudly protests, and scores Blair an invite. Can't live two weeks without her best friend. Besides, she's family.

It's freezing in Vail at this time of year. Blair starts applying moisturizer to her sensitive skin three hours into the five hour flight. She tries to force it on everyone at least twice. When Eric refuses, she sits in his lap and globs it all over his face. Bart admires the way she stubbornly argues with Chuck about it. Chuck eventually agrees. He's got a lovesick expression on his face, Bart notices. Hm.

Blair is deathly afraid of heights. Not plane heights (because it doesn't _really_ feel like you're up high, right?). Heights where she's suspended, where her feet dangle above her so-called impending doom. Despite years of experience skiing, chairlifts still aren't her _thing_. She can't get over the height. The gondola makes her feel better, but it's still something that swings and sways.

Chuck is known to pay the ski bums who work the gondolas at least a hundred dollars per ride to put him in his own gondola. He doesn't ride with _peasants_. Yes, that is the word he uses. Blair, who has a little more tolerance and a lot more grace, calls him tacky. She would _never_ do that, but she secretly appreciates it. She doesn't like peasants either.

Chuck and Blair like to ski hard. Bart wishes he could keep up, but he's gotten kind of old. His back doesn't hold up the way it used to. Sometimes he tags along in the morning, but as his energy fades, he has to join up with Serena, Lily and Eric. The proud bunny hill group. Blair always offers to slow down for him, but "slow" for her is zipping down a black diamond in the back bowl that's just gotten fresh powder. He can't handle that. Chuck snickers. Bart is embarrassed.

One day, Chuck and Blair get stuck in their private little gondola. A blizzard has just hit, and they don't know when they'll be able to start the gondola again. Blair starts panicking. Chuck tries to calm her down with a chocolate bar. iIt's only one of the many food items he carries around in his pockets should an emergency situation should arise. That emergency situation being his hunger. God forbid King Charles should ever go hungry.

"I don't eat chocolate."

"That's ridiculous. Who doesn't eat chocolate?"

"I don't."

"Why not?"

"It's fattening."

"Eat the fucking chocolate, Blair, or I'll force it down your throat."

"Okay."

He's never seen someone eat faster.

"Thanks," she says, stretching her legs in front of her.

He inches closer to her on the seat. The gondola shakes. She flinches. He puts his arm around her.

Chuck and Blair do what they do best in those three hours they spend on the gondola. Argue and make out. The making out part, Blair justifies, is a way to distract her from her fear. Chuck just calls her horny.

They spend the rest of the trip skiing and having sex. They think no one notices (with the exception of Serena, who wants to hear the details but also doesn't want to because it's kind of repulsive). Everyone notices. They're not nearly as sneaky as they think they are. It's pretty obvious when they lock themselves up every night in Chuck's room to "watch a House marathon," but the only things they can say about the episodes are that House was high on vicodin, Cuddy looked like a slut, and the patient was saved at the last minute. Yeah. Okay. How descriptive.

Blair drunks dial Chuck one night. She's out partying with Serena and she's pretty trashed. She hasn't heard from Chuck lately and her sober pride won't let her contact him. She will not be needy, she will not be needy, she will not be needy. Logically, she throws herself at a random guy. Makes out with him at a table. He kind of looks like Chuck if she downs enough alcohol and squints hard enough. But she's not drunk enough to overlook that his lips don't feel like Chuck's and that he doesn't taste the way Chuck does and that he doesn't set her skin on fire like Chuck does. Can she ever be that drunk?

So she goes outside of the club, calls him up, and cries to him about how he's ruined all other men for her and blah blah blah. He miraculously makes it there in five minutes, takes her drunk ass back to the van der Bass penthouse, and tucks her into his bed for the night.

The next morning, she asks him why he hasn't called.

"Because I thought you didn't want me to call."

"Why wouldn't I want you to call?"

"I thought you needed time or whatever. That we 'couldn't be anything.'"

"No, that's what _you_ think. What'd you say? That we _only have tonight _or some other melodramatic bullshit?"

"I don't think that anymore. I thought that that, er, changed in Vail."

"Oh, so you just change your mind about the possibility of a relationship and don't bother to tell the other half of the potential relationship? What, am I a mind reader?"

"I just thought you knew."

"Well, I didn't. So thanks. I've felt like shit all week."

"You've felt like shit? _I've_ felt like shit."

"You didn't call! I thought you, like, didn't want me anymore."

"A) Not possible. B) I thought _you_ didn't want me anymore."

"I do. Want you."

"I want you too."

"Good."

"Yup."

"… What now?"

"Not sure. Should I make us official?"

"Please."

"Blair, will you be my girlfriend?"

"Yes. Gladly."

Predictably, the next thing they do is consummate their relationship a few times. When they're finished and lying in bed together, she looks up at him, blinks once, and tells him that she loves him. He smiles slightly and presses a kiss into her hair, mumbling that he loves her too. It's almost inaudible, but it's there, and Blair can accept a mumble. One day she'll turn that mumble into a formal proclamation. Maybe even a facebook status.

Everything continues as in A.


	3. C

Disclaimer: I do not own Gossip Girl or "Happy Endings;" all characters and initial concepts/structures belong to their respective owners.

* * *

C.

When Blair Waldorf was twelve, she asked Chuck Bass to be her first kiss.

"Why?" he asked.

She shrugged one shoulder. "Because I want to be good for Nate."

Chuck frowned and ignored the disappointment churning in his stomach. The beating of his lovesick heart.

"Please?" She bit her bottom lip, embarrassment tinging her cheeks.

"Okay."

He sat her down on the couch next to him. He pressed his lips to hers for precisely three seconds. They broke apart.

"Thanks."

"Any time, Waldorf."

Blair left his house that day with a slight spring in her step. Both tried to ignore the butterflies.

* * *

When Blair Waldorf was fifteen, she asked Chuck Bass to make out with her.

"Why?" he asked.

She shrugged one shoulder. "Because I want to be good for Nate."

Chuck frowned and ignored the disappointment churning in his stomach. The beating of his lovesick heart.

"You and Nate haven't made out yet? Geez."

She blushed fiercely, turning to go. "Forget I asked."

"No, Blair." He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back. "Sit, it's fine, I'll do it."

It was her turn to frown. "Well, don't make it sound like torture."

"Blair Waldorf, I would love to make out with the hot piece of ass that you are, so sit the fuck down so I can attack you with my lips."

She rolled her eyes. "Thanks, Chuck."

"Any time, Waldorf," he smirked before pulling her into his lap.

He leaned in to kiss her. Their lips brushed. She jerked back.

"I-I don't know how. You can't make fun of me."

"It's okay." He rubbed the small of her back with his hand. "Don't be so self-conscious, everyone has to learn how."

She nodded and he leaned in again. They kissed. He coaxed her mouth open with his tongue.

He didn't realize he was opening the Blair Waldorf edition of Pandora's Box, featuring pent-up sexual frustration and serious tongue dexterity.

Time passed. Chuck didn't know how much. How could he with Blair Waldorf kissing him like the world was ending tomorrow? But he did know that his leg was falling asleep.

He grunted.

"What?"

"My leg is asleep."

She looked down at how they were sitting, pursing her swollen lips. "Sorry." She swung her legs over and straddled him. Her skirt inched up towards her waist.

"My, my," Chuck drawled, "what a risqué position for such an innocent young girl."

Her cheeks turned pink. "Shut up."

He smirked. "Anyone ever tell you you're a good kisser, Waldorf?"

"Well, Serena did this one time in Aspen…"

Chuck coughed. "What?"

A smile touched the corners of her lips and she kissed him again.

Pressing against Blair's innocent, untouched inner thigh was the bulge in Chuck's pants. If she just moved her hips slightly then it could press against her underwear…

"What are you doing?"

She looked away.

"B, look at me."

Her eyes reluctantly made their way back to his face.

"Have you ever… touched yourself?"

"Pardon?"

"Have you ever masturbated?"

"… No."

"God, you're totally pure," he muttered to himself.

She stood up and smoothed down her skirt. "Sorry."

"It's not a bad thing I just… I can't be the one to corrupt you."

"Excuse me?"

"You want to, er, feel things that I can make you feel, but they're not my place to make you feel."

"Are you saying that you think I want you to have sex with me?"

"No, I'm saying that you want me to make you come."

Blair narrowed her eyes.

"It's not a bad thing. Trust me, I _want_ to make you come. There is nothing I would like to do more right now. But I just can't. I'm not your boyfriend."

"My boyfriend doesn't want to do _anything_ with me, so, whatever."

"Come on, B, you know that's not true."

"It is true!" Her bottom lip quivered. "Nate would rather be jacking off while thinking of Serena than get physical with me. Don't you dare deny it."

Silence.

"Well, Nate's a fucking idiot. You're twenty times hotter than Serena, and I'm not just saying that to make you feel better."

"Yeah, you are."

"I'm not. I think about you when I jack off."

Blair scrunched up her nose. "Huh?"

"You heard me."

Her eyes brightened.

"That's kind of gross."

He laughed. "But you like knowing that I do, don't you?"

"Well, yeah…"

"Who knew you'd be such a slut at heart?"

She grinned cheekily. "Serena did."

"Oh, right, Aspen. Why don't you tell me about Aspen?"

"I can't, I should get going," she leaned in and pecked him on the cheek. "I have to go change my underwear before I meet the girls for lunch."

"You're a fucking tease."

"Hey, you almost had me today," she giggled as she floated out the door, tossing the door shut behind her.

Blair left his house that day with a spring in her step. Both tried to ignore the butterflies.

* * *

When Blair Waldorf was sixteen, she asked Chuck Bass to go to third with her.

"Why?" he asked.

She shrugged one shoulder. "Because I'm horny."

Chuck's eyebrows furrowed together. "Now?"

"For like the last six months."

He smirked. "Nate not satisfying you, Princess?"

"Nate's not doing anything, period," she sighed, stretching out on his bed. She pressed a pillow over her face and sighed loudly.

"And your fingers aren't doing the trick? A vibrator, perhaps?"

"Obviously _not_, Chuck," she snapped, pulling the pillow off her face and sitting up to glare at him. "So make a fucking choice before I die from the female equivalent of blue balls."

The pillow came over Blair's face again and she flopped back.

The bed dipped beside her. A warm finger traced the skin of her pale collar, dipping just below her dress to tease the tops of her breasts.

"So you're saying that you have an itch only I can scratch, hm?"

"Stop fucking with me, Bass!" she growled, whipping the pillow off her face and smacking him with it. "I really, really need you to do this for me."

He laughed, pinning her down easily, one hand holding her two wrists above her head. She squirmed against him.

"You're hot when you're horny," Chuck said against her skin, pressing a kiss to the flesh behind her ear.

She held back a whimper. "Please don't start if you're not going to follow through. I swear on Audrey that I'll cry if you're just going to stop."

"I'm your boyfriend's best friend, are you sure you're okay with this?" He licked at her neck.

Her head fell back and she screwed her eyes shut, hips involuntarily rising to meet his. "It doesn't matter. I don't care… I just… I need…"

He frowned. "I don't want you to regret it, though. I don't want to take something special away from you."

"You're not. The special thing was already taken away from me so just don't worry about it."

"Hm?"

"You can't tell Nate any of this, by the way."

She closed her eyes again, fighting off tears. She wiped at her eyes.

Chuck rolled off of her and pulled her up by her arm into a sitting position. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Her nostrils flared.

"Seriously, B, what's wrong?"

"I know about Serena and Nate!" she sobbed, burying her face in her hands. "I know they had sex, okay?"

"I-"

"-Why didn't you tell me? I know Nate's your best friend, but I'm your friend too."

"I was trying to protect you." He rubbed her shoulder.

"That's a fucked up way of trying to protect me," she shrugged off his hand, moving away from him. "It's not like I haven't known about their undying love for years."

"I'm really sorry. I was going to tell you but I just… I couldn't."

"Whatever." Blair pulled a pillow into her lap and picked at the corner of it with her nail. "I guess it's better now that I have an excuse to break up with him."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah, I haven't loved Nate for, like, years." She shrugged, pursing her lips. "I guess… I don't know, I want love like Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck. Not like… I don't know. I just couldn't break up with Nate cause, like, we're the golden couple, you know?"

He snorted. "Trust me, I know."

She stared at him for a moment. "Whatever. I'm just mad because Serena's supposed to be my best friend."

"That's kind of the pot calling the kettle black, don't you think?"

"This is different." She kicked her shoes off and started pulling at the tightly tucked in sheets. "I didn't come over here to get revenge. I really am horny, and you're Chuck Bass. I figured that Nate officially doesn't want me, so, you know, here I am."

He watched as she fluffed a pillow and climbed into bed, hugging her arms around her.

"Can you do me a favor?" Blair asked.

"Mm?"

"Will you hold me?"

"Sure."

He followed her into bed, wrapping his arm around her stomach and pulling her back into his chest.

Silence.

He kissed the top of her head.

"What was that for?"

"You know you're beautiful, right?"

"Huh?"

"Nate had sex with Serena because he's stupid. Trust me, you have nothing to be insecure about."

She turned in his arms, a slight smile on her face. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you're quite honestly the most gorgeous girl I've ever laid my eyes on, so… Yeah."

"Eloquent," she laughed.

He blushed.

"I don't think I've ever seen you blush before."

"I don't blush very easily."

"But I make you blush?"

"Sometimes, yeah."

"You make me blush too."

"You blush all the time."

"But not like… this. You know what I mean."

"I do, I do, I'm just teasing."

Blair giggled as she pulled herself up his body, pressing her forehead against his.

Chuck leaned in and kissed her.

She pulled back. "I don't want this to be a pity thing."

"Don't worry, it's not."

Blair smiled and rolled onto her back, pulling him on top of her. He went straight for her neck, sucking and kissing at the soft skin until he'd left multiple bruises all over. Marking her as his. His fingers traveled under the hem of her dress, massaging up her thigh until he reached the lace of her underwear.

He paused. "Do you still want me to…?"

She nodded, sucking in a breath.

His fingers dipped under the fabric and into…

"Ah," Blair sighed.

Whimpers and moans later, she came. A tear leaked out of her eye. He kissed it away.

"Thank you," she said when the feeling came back to her legs.

"Any time, Waldorf."

She fell asleep in his arms. He watched her as long as he could before falling asleep himself.

Blair left his house the next morning (scarf wrapped around her neck to hide the hickeys) with a spring in her step. Both tried to ignore the butterflies.

* * *

When Blair Waldorf was seventeen, she asked Chuck Bass to take her virginity.

"Why?" he asked.

She shrugged one shoulder. "Because I want my first time to be special."

"And it would be special with me?"

"Well… yeah."

He folded his arms behind his head and leaned against the headboard of his bed. "I've never heard that before."

"I just, I feel like I'm never going to lose my virginity, you know?" she rolled onto her back and let her torso slip off the bed until she was upside down, staring at the window. "Nate was, like, my safety net and now he's just screwing Serena left and right. Which is fine cause I dumped him, but, whatever."

Chuck frowned. "I thought you had a gaggle of potential suitors salivating at the chance of boning you. Go ask one of them."

"Ew, no, they're so grimy. Do you not want me or something?"

"No, I don't."

She sat up. "Are you serious?"

"I don't want to be just your back up fuck, Blair. Sorry, but no."

"I mean, you're not just my back up fuck. You're _Chuck_."

"Exactly. I'm _Chuck_," he sneered. "Is that how you see me? As your ex-boyfriend's sex machine best friend? Is that all I am?"

She rolled her eyes and threw a pillow at him. "Shut up, you know you're my best friend."

"How the fuck am I supposed to know that?"

"You're the first person I call when I wake up and the last person I text before I go to sleep. I tell you more crap than I tell Serena. I trust you way more than Serena. You're my best friend." She shrugged nonchalantly. "And I know I'm your best friend too because Nate doesn't get you or your issues with Bart, but I do. I get you, Bass."

Silence.

"I see you as more than my 'ex-boyfriend's sex machine best friend,' that's such a stupid thing to think."

"But I'm just guy Serena."

"No, you're _way_ more than that. What are you getting at?"

He looked away.

"Chuck, seriously. You can tell me anything."

"Do you ever feel… butterflies?"

"What?"

"When I'm around you…" he trailed off, searching for the words. "I feel… like my stomach is fluttering and I can hear my heart beating and I just want to kiss you all the fucking time."

"I-"

"-Let me finish. I've never, well, I don't think anyone's ever loved me, so I'm not really sure what love is. But I'm pretty sure that I'm in love with you. So, I can't be your last resort fuck because I want to be _more_ than that."

She crawled off the bed. He thought he was going to throw up.

"God, fuck, I take it back, I didn't say any of that. Pretend that didn't happen."

"No! No. Don't you dare take it back." She grinned and retrieved his scarf from the chair in the corner. "I can't believe you haven't noticed this yet."

Beneath the tag was her glittering gold heart pin.

"Is that…?"

"Yeah."

"Does that mean-"

"-Yeah."

He pulled her into his lap. "Am I your new Nate?"

"No, you're my Chuck."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that, as your girlfriend, I officially claim your scarf as mine. And I will flaunt it in the face of any old conquests who dare to flirt with you again. Or anyone who dares to flirt with you ever. Except for Nate, since you guys are in some weird bromance. Oh, and other than myself, because I'm your girlfriend and that's my right."

He smirked. "You're chatty."

"I ramble when I'm sublimely happy."

She pecked him on the lips.

"You know I'm gonna be a shitty boyfriend, right? I have no fucking idea what I'm supposed to do."

"Zip it, you'll be amazing. I'll teach you."

He rolled them over, pressing his body into hers. "And I'll teach you some things about sex, starting with the most effective places to rip a dress."

"No!" She flailed against him. "I like this dress. Seriously, I'll castrate you. Don't. Your balls are your best asset."

Blair left his house the next morning in baggy jeans and a men's dress shirt, no longer a virgin, practically skipping down the sidewalk.

* * *

Everything continues as in A.


	4. D

Disclaimer: I do not own Gossip Girl or "Happy Endings;" all characters and initial concepts/structures belong to their respective owners.

* * *

D.

"I almost forgot that you're a Harry Potter nerd."

Blair looked up from Goblet of Fire. "What?" She narrowed her eyes. "Oh, it's you."

Chuck smirked and swaggered over to her, sitting at the edge of her beach chair. "Lovely to see you too, B."

"I can't imagine why you would find it lovely, seeing as you left me on the helipad." She violently flicked to the next page.

"That's what I came to talk about."

"I don't want to hear it," she snapped, closing her book shut. "I get it, Chuck. You realized you were making a mistake or whatever and decided fucking some tall blonde would be the best way to let me know of that. Nice touch, by the way, choosing a tall blonde. Let's further cement my issues with them."

He frowned. "Blair-"

"-No, just leave me alone. I'm not doing this anymore."

He watched as she disappeared into the van der Bass summer home, clutching her book to her chest.

* * *

"Where'd Chuck go?" Blair asked Serena one morning over grapefruit.

Serena's spoon stopped halfway to her mouth. "Why? Are you going to chop off his balls?"

Blair rolled her eyes. "The word is castrate, dear, and no. He's been gone for, like, two days. I thought it was weird."

"Oh. I don't know, he said he had an urgent errand to make.

"That's weird. Where?"

Serena shrugged.

"You're useless for information."

"Love you too, B."

They continued to eat in silence.

"Are you still in love with him?"

Blair choked on her grapefruit. "What?"

"I don't know! You haven't wanted to talk about it, but, like. I don't know."

"I'm not. That's preposterous. If you think that I could love that motherchucking basshole after what he did to me, you are sorely mistaken, and I might need to reevaluate this friendship."

Serena stared down at her grapefruit.

"… What?"

"Nothing."

"No, seriously, what?"

"Well, you still loved Nate after… us. And what you had with Chuck was, like, ten times more intense. So, logically, you would still love Chuck."

"Thanks for the insight into my psyche, Dr. Serena. Are you done trying to psychoanalyze me?"

Serena dropped her spoon. "I'm your best friend, B, so this stupid wall you have up is silly because I know you better. I won't judge you, so just be real."

Blair looked away. Her bottom lip quivered.

"Oh my god, you totally still love him!" Serena squealed.

"It's not a good thing! I should hate him."

"He made a mistake! It's not that big of a deal."

"He cheated on me and abandoned me in a foreign country." She waved her spoon at Serena. "How is that not a big deal?"

"Okay, fine, it is a big deal, but it's also Chuck! He's just never had a girlfriend before. I'm sure he panicked and did something stupid. You know how men are."

Blair shook her head. "If he had real feelings for me, he wouldn't have done that."

"Just promise me you'll sit down and talk with him when he gets back."

"No!"

"Blair."

"No."

"Come on."

"No."

"He might surprise you."

"He won't."

"He might."

"No."

"Blair, I will burn your shoes if you don't."

"Ugh, fine."

"Thank you."

"Go die."

"Ah, I feel the love."

* * *

"Go!" Serena gently pushed Blair towards Chuck's bedroom door. "He just got back."

"I can't."

"Yes, you can, now go."

Blair frowned at her friend and tried to swallow the lump of fear in her throat. She went inside.

"Um, hi, Chuck." She sat down on the edge of the bed, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

He turned to look at her, eyebrows lifted. "What a surprise."

"Serena thought I should come talk to you about… you know."

"So you didn't come of your own volition?"

"Not really, no."

"Do you want to talk?"

Blair shrugged. "Might as well now that I'm here."

"Can we take a walk?"

She stared at him.

"I just want to go outside. Fresh air."

"Uh, sure."

"Okay, take off your heels."

"Why?"

"They'll get stuck in the grass."

She kicked them off.

* * *

"Sit," Chuck tugged on her arm when they reached a stress of beautiful green grass enclosed by a border of tall trees.

"My dress will get stained."

He took off his cardigan and spread it on the grass for her.

Blair sat on it and crossed her legs in front of her. "Thanks."

He sat down across from her.

"So…" She picked at the grass.

"I'm really sorry, Blair."

"I figured as much." She looked away from him.

"No, please, you don't understand. Every day has been agony. The guilt won't let me sleep, won't let me eat. I can barely function."

She clenched her jaw. "How do you think I felt, spending those first few days alone in Tuscany?"

"I'm so, so sorry."

"I sat in the room alone for days, calling and calling. Wondering what I did wrong, why I pushed another boy to another girl. I thought that…" She choked.

"You-"

"-I thought that we had something! That I was enough for you! I thought maybe now that we'd gotten through the whole Nate debacle, I don't know, we could both be real. I just feel like everything was a lie."

"No, Blair, it wasn't. Listen to me, it wasn't." He felt like vomiting, watching her wipe at her tears. He felt like a fuck up. "I panicked. Bart freaked me out."

"So you screwed another girl?" She grimaced at her own words and stared at the grass behind him. "I overestimated how you felt about me. I thought, oh, you know, he feels the same way. If you had actually loved me, you at least would've bothered to call."

"You… love me?"

She wanted to scream. "Look at me! I'm blubbering like… like… not me! Since when do I cry in front of people? I didn't even cry in front of Nate! I don't know who I am anymore!"

She ripped a handful of grass out.

He stared at her.

She closed her eyes. "I just… I know that when I realized you weren't coming, it hit me that you didn't love me. And then I wanted to die."

"I feel the same way, Blair," he admitted quietly. "I swear on… my scarf. You have to believe me."

She shook her head, brushing away the last of her tears. "Say it. Tell me that you love me."

"I-I…"

"Three words, eight letters." Her eyes bore holes into his head. "And I'm yours."

His mouth gaped open.

She fled the scene.

* * *

A loud shriek came from Blair's room.

Serena sprinted. "What? Are you okay?"

Blair was holding a measuring tape up to a stick with a leather grip. "It's 11 inches! And I think it's holly! Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god."

"I just ran across the house for this?" Serena panted, collapsing in a chair. "Are you fucking kidding? It's a stick!"

"No, I think it's Harry Potter's wand!"

"I repeat. Are you fucking kidding?"

"Look, it came in an Ollivander's box!" She waved the box in Serena's face.

Serena rolled her eyes. "You're a nerd. Hey, there's a note on the bottom."

Blair flipped the box over. I'm sorry I can't say it. But that doesn't mean it's not true.

She sucked in a breath. "I'll be back."

* * *

"Is this real?"

Chuck looked up from his book. Blair stood in the doorway of the library. "Yeah."

"This is the wand from the movies?"

"From the first one. Yeah."

"And you're giving it to me?"

"I left it on your bed, didn't I?"

She sat in the chair across from him. "This is the most ridiculous gift ever."

"Sorry."

"No, not in a bad way," she turned the wand over in her hands. "No one's ever given me such a thoughtful present. Thank you."

"Welcome." He tried to read.

"How did you even get this?"

"Friends in high places," Chuck shrugged. "Asked for a favor. They couldn't mail it to me, so I had to go pick it up."

"In England?"

"In England."

"And that's where you were."

"Yep." His eyes didn't move from his book.

She flicked the wand at his book and muttered something under her breath.

"What are you doing?"

Blair frowned. "I wanted to see if I was still a muggle. Can you close your book?"

He set it down next to him.

"I believe you."

"Hm?"

"That you love me. I believe you."

His eyes narrowed. "You do?"

"You flew to England to get me Harry Potter's wand. You don't even like Harry Potter."

"You mean a lot to me."

She laughed softly. "I figured. So… I… do you want to be, like, a thing again?"

He smiled. "Only if you promise not to try to cast spells on me."

"Don't worry," she pouted, "I don't think I'm a wizard. It's really unfortunate, actually."

"Come here."

She climbed into his lap.

"I missed you," he kissed her forehead.

"I missed you too."

They sat in comfortable silence.

"Let's go," Chuck said, pushing her to her feet then grabbing her at her knees. He threw her over his shoulder. "My basilisk wants to ravage your Chamber of Secrets."

"Chuck!" She kicked her legs in the air. "What?"

"I'll stir your leaky cauldron with my wand."

"Are you making a Harry Potter sex joke?"

"Google is a powerful tool."

"That's the hottest thing I've ever heard."

He threw her on his bed. "Are you serious?"

Blair propped herself up on her elbows. "It's really turning me on."

"You're more of a nerd than I realized. What have I gotten myself into?" He pinned her down.

"The best relationship of your life!"

* * *

Everything continues as in A.


	5. E

Disclaimer: I do not own Gossip Girl or "Happy Endings;" all characters and initial concepts/structures belong to their respective owners.

A/N: I'm cranking these out really quickly, but I got inspired yesterday while watching House (I don't understand the connection either). This is actually an old oneshot I wrote, but I edited the ending to fit with the theme better. I actually wrote the next part, but I'm at least going to make you guys wait until tonight. Also, thank you for all the lovely reviews! You guys rock 3 I shall end the lovefest here before it gets any gooier.

* * *

E.

"Bass..."

"Should I be worried?"

"What? I'm just saying hi!"

"You have that look in your eyes. The one that means you're up to something."

"No, I don't. That's ridiculous. I just came to say hi to my _good_ friend Chuck."

"What do you want?"

"My mother's soirée is tomorrow night."

"Oh?"

"... And I need a date."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"Where's Nathaniel? Don't boyfriends usually do these kinds of things? I wouldn't know, I only dated you for a week."

"And whose fault is that, Bass?"

"You avoided my question."

"You're avoiding mine."

"Touché."

"Thank you."

"Answer my question."

"Nate and I broke up, Chuck. Like three weeks ago."

"Oh."

"There's that monosyllabic expression of sympathy that I can always rely on."

"Who dumped who?"

"You want the gory details? Fine. I dumped him. Wasn't working out."

"It's because he bores you."

"Thanks for the brilliant insight, Dr. Freud. Now, are you coming or not?"

"You know how much I adore giving you _insight, _B. And yes, I'll go."

"_How_ is it that you can make everything sound inappropriate?"

"It's just part of the alluring Chuck Bass charm."

"Alluring? You mean repulsive. I'll see you at eight tonight. Wear a red bowtie!"

CBCBCBCBCBCB

"Oh my God."

"Oh my God, what?"

"What are you _wearing_?"

"An Eleanor Waldorf Original, of course."

"Let me rephrase that. What _aren't_ you wearing?"

"A bra? I know, it's kind of revolutionary that a girl _wouldn't_ wear a bra with an open back dress."

"Turn around."

"..."

"Can you not growl like that? It's creepy."

"It's a growl of appreciation, Waldorf."

"Oh, what's that? You like this dress?"

"Shall we go down the Chuck Bass dress checklist?"

"Ugh, no, spare me."

"Thought so."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"This is awkward."

"Is it? I hadn't noticed."

"That's because you're too busy leering at my breasts."

"You asked for it. By the way, is that a thong I see sticking out of the back of your dress?"

"That's impossible."

"Why is that impossible?"

"..."

"_Why_ is that impossible?"

"Oh, look, there's Cyrus! I should go hug him!"

"Blair! Why?"

"Cyrus, just the person I wanted to see! How about giving me one of your famous forty five minute long hugs?"

CBCBCBCBCBCB

"Did you _really_ just do that?"

"Push you into a bathroom?"

"No, I meant dance for my mother in nothing but your bowtie. _Of course_ I meant push me into a bathroom."

"Oh, Waldorf, if you wanted me to dance in nothing but my bowtie for you, all you had to do was ask."

"Ask? Why would I need to _ask_? I already have it on tape."

"... What?"

"Oh, you don't remember that? Your blackouts are just so convenient."

"You have a video of me dancing, drunk and naked?"

"Yes."

"..."

"Stop smirking like that."

"..."

"Why are you smirking like that?"

"Is that how you get yourself off? Watching the video of me dancing naked?"

"Change of subject! Why did you push me in here?"

"Way to _smoothly_ transition. I would have never noticed that subtle diversion!"

"Your sarcasm is so appreciated. Now answer my question."

"You answer mine."

"Don't make me kick you. These are very pointy heels."

"Geez, fine. I figured out why it'd be impossible for there to be a thong. You're not wearing underwear, are you?"

"Maybe, maybe not. That's kind of a personal question, don't you think?"

"Answer me directly or I'll take action."

"I don't believe you."

"..."

"Get your hand out of my dress, Bass!"

"Holy shit. You're really not wearing underwear!"

"You're Chuck Bass. Aren't you supposed to be _used_ to this kind of thing?"

"Yes, I'm Chuck Bass… but you're _Blair Waldorf_. Does Mommy Dearest know you're going commando underneath that orgasmic dress of hers?"

"... I thought I told you to get your hand out of my dress."

"Anyone ever tell you you have quite the delicious ass?"

"Bass, hand, now!"

"Fine, fine, you're such a killjoy."

"And you're an inappropriate sleaze. Thanks for the information, Captain Obvious. Now, are you going to let me out of here?"

"Not until you answer some questions for me."

"How many?"

"Twenty."

"One."

"Twenty."

"Three."

"Twenty."

"Seven."

"Twenty."

"Do you not know how haggling works?"

"Twenty."

"Ugh. Fine. Twenty."

"Who doesn't know how to haggle now?"

"That was your first question."

"Hey, hey, I am the official judge of the questions. Stop infringing on my position."

"Just get to the point."

"Why are you wearing that dress?"

"… Because it's pretty? And that's one."

"Again, you are not the official judge of the questions. So, no, that was a half, because I obviously didn't get the kind answer I was looking for. Why are you wearing such a, dare I say it, improper dress?"

"Again, because it's pretty."

"No, because if you had asked any other boy to come with you, you'd be wearing a disgustingly prude dress. You're wearing this dress because I'm your date, and you needed something that would… seduce me."

"Wow, you're delusional. Why would I want to seduce you?"

"When is it going to get through that pretty little head of yours that I'm the one asking the questions here? But, you bring up a good point. Why would you want to seduce me, Blair?"

"I don't know, Chuck, why don't you tell me the contrived reason your oxygen deprived brain has come up with? And I say that it's oxygen deprived because I'm not sure what else could cause this sudden bout of insanity other than your pre-existing madness. Of course, I already knew of your pre-existing madness and this _clearly_ is a new symptom, so to speak, so I conclude that you must be suffering from the likes of oxygen deprivation."

"You lost me."

"Whatever."

"You're seducing me because you want me back."

"Ha!"

"Don't deny it, Princess."

"God, your ego just grows by the _second_, doesn't it? We're done, Chuck. You need to understand that."

"We will _never_ be done, Waldorf. I keep telling you that we're inevitable, because we are, and you just continuously fail to comprehend that because your mother has brainwashed you."

"Inevitable doesn't exist, Bass."

"Yes it does. We're living proof. You have to believe me."

"Why?"

"Do you have to believe me?"

"Yeah."

"Because I have no purpose if we're not inevitable, B."

"You have purpose."

"No, I don't! Without you, I'll just get old and inherit Bass Industries and be just like Bart. And I can't be. I have to do something different. You make me different. You're my purpose."

"… I don't know what to say to that."

"I've rendered the mighty Blair Waldorf speechless? … No way. I'm not Nate, I don't fall for this bullshit. You set me up."

"Set you up?"

"You're a little conniving bitch, Waldorf, tucking your hair behind you ear like that. _Flirtatiously_."

"It was in my face!"

"You're a great actress, you know that?"

"I'm not acting!"

"Bullshit. You asked me to be your date so that you could wear that get up without underwear and drive me _so_ nuts that I had to drag you to the bathroom and do some kind of sick social experiment."

"And your point is?"

"You're _such_ a conniving bitch."

"I take that as a compliment."

"I meant it as one. It was a brilliant plan. Bravo."

"Thank you, thank you."

"Shall we go announce to your mother that you're stuck with me forever?"

"Only if you do it while holding my hand."

"Gladly."

Everything continues as in A.


	6. F

Disclaimer: I do not own Gossip Girl or "Happy Endings" or _The Bell Jar_; all characters and initial concepts/structures belong to their respective owners.

A/N: Sorry that this took a million years to post. I don't know why, but I was unsatisfied with anything I was writing for the longest time. Plus, I'm sick, so I've been in a weird mood. To resolve this issue, I read my favorite book, _The Bell Jar_ (at least I can admit that it's my favorite... unlike Blair - read below), again to see if I could get inspired. And voilà, another chapter. Of course, this is way heavier than my other chapters because, well, it's inspired by Sylvia Plath. And in case you were wondering, I do see a lot of myself in Blair and a lot of Blair in myself.

Also, thank you for all your lovely reviews and for all of the people who've put this story in their various lists/alerts. It means a lot, especially since this is the first one I've posted. I should start replying individually to your reviews, but I'm kind of lazy. I'll work on it.

And, finally, I'm going away for a month on the 22. Hopefully, I'll crank out a few more updates before then. At least one. But I swear I'll be back!

* * *

F.

Chuck never envisioned himself bringing flowers for a girl. He was Chuck motherfucking Bass, playboy extraordinaire; he didn't _do_ flowers. He did smarmy comments, surprise gropings, and sex. But flowers? No.

"Oh, Mr. Chuck, you bring flowers!" Dorota beamed at him, taking the hydrangeas out of his hands. "So beautiful, I go get vase for them. You wait here one minute."

"Ah, Dorota, is Blair in the dining room?"

Blair's nanny looked furtively around the foyer. "Ms. Eleanor upset Ms. Blair so Ms. Blair go into kitchen and tell everyone to get out. Now she is having 'Ms. Blair Time' in room."

"Well then," Chuck said and brought her hand to his lips, "I'll be heading up there. Thank you for the valued info-"

"No!" Dorota, heavily blushing, snatched her hand out of his. "Ms. Blair say she want to be alone. I think she take bath."

"Dorota, my love," Chuck drawled and she reddened even more, "you know that Blair doesn't _really_ want to be alone. And the bath only makes it more… enticing."

She gasped as he dashed up the stairs, calling after him, "Mr. Chuck, God always watch!"

The door to Blair's room closed behind him.

Chuck had barged in on many of Blair's baths, although he never actually _entered_ the bathroom pre-fateful limo ride, just conversed with her through the door. Like everything Blair did, bubble baths were an event that had to be choreographed perfectly. He'd memorized the routine well. The curtains would be shut, her old clothes would be folded neatly on one side of her bed, new ones laid out on the other, and a curling iron would be heating up on her vanity.

Chuck was used to unplugging that. It was dangerous, he always insisted, but Blair would just laugh snidely and call him paranoid.

He didn't like the fact that her old clothes were in a heap on the floor with a fresh set nowhere in sight. He didn't like the curtains drawn open or the lack of hair curler. Most of all, he didn't like the completely eaten box of macaroons strewn all over her bed.

Deep breaths. There was no need to barge in there and yell at her for being a complete idiot. Chuck Bass would play it cool… play himself. Or the person he thought he was. Lately, he'd been feeling warm, like there was something fuzzy in his stomach. Sometimes he even felt nice. It was the apocalypse. Or a severe case of the flu. Either way, the authorities and/or a doctor needed to be alerted pronto.

"Not now, Dorota," Blair snapped as soon as she heard the door open, sinking further into the bath. Her eyes were closed. "I told you I needed to be alone."

Chuck didn't search the bubbles for a peek of a nipple or thigh. He moved to the toilet, closing the lid shut and taking a seat.

"It's me."

She opened her eyes, looked at him, and closed them again. "I'm not in the mood."

He frowned. "I'm not here for sex."

"Fine, I'm not in the mood for your company." Blair paused, mulling something over, lips half-open. "Unless you brought me a present, that is," she said finally.

"You're predictable." He smirked. "I brought you flowers, but Dorota snatched them away from me downstairs."

"Roses?"

Chuck's eyes narrowed. He didn't like how she always tested him, waiting for that tiny mistake that would give her the perfect reason to kick him out of her life forever. It was obvious that Blair hadn't quite come to terms with the fact that she was _actually_ in some sort of relationship with the biggest manwhore on the Upper East Side. He wondered when she'd start to see him for what he really was (when it came to her, at least).

"Hydrangeas. I know what your favorite flowers are, B."

"Orchids are my favorite, act-"

"-But you don't like receiving them in bouquets because you're very picky about them. And they're not bouquet-y flowers. So hydrangeas are the default."

"Do you stalk me or something?" She pulled some bubbles towards her face, letting them tickle her nose.

"We've been friends since we were five. I know everything about you."

"Not, _every_thing," and she sunk further down into the water.

"Yes. Everything." Chuck stared at her intently.

She flustered. "Everything?"

"I know, Blair."

If you asked her what it felt like to live with all of her insecurities and secrets and conditions, she'd compare it to being trapped in a bell jar.

(That was a conversation she'd once had with Serena, who had been stunned by the eloquence of her comparison. Of course, Serena was too uncultured to realize that she'd taken it right out of Sylvia Plath's _The Bell Jar_, the novel Blair always read when she was at her most miserable. But it wasn't really plagiarism if it was true, right?)

She hadn't felt any less trapped when her parents found out. Nor when Dorota and Serena did. Her stints with therapists, the Ostroff Center and the two-hour possibility of full on rehab were complete busts as well. It didn't matter who she told because Blair never stopped feeling suffocated, although the word was barely even adequate.

Suffocate. It seemed so trite. It felt more like all of the air around her was pushing in, trying to compress her until she was completely flat. But her body wouldn't budge no matter how much the pressure increased. So she compensated for it.

And then she had to stop. Because she was going to die. She had no choice but to live with the pressure, even when her entire world fell to pieces around her.

Then, one day, Blair felt a flood of fresh air for the first time in years. Surprised, Blair stopped to take a good look around her and found that the bell jar had lifted a few inches off the ground. Strengthened by the stream of oxygen, she got into the limo and sped away to Victrola.

The bell jar sealed itself the next morning. The morning after that, it had lifted again. At least two feet.

And it only took a few snide words from her mother to make it crash around her again. Blair couldn't deal with the pressure this time.

But there sat Chuck, the only person who had figured it out on his own. The only person who bothered to look close enough to see that something was wrong. The only person who could coax the bell jar to release its death grip on her, whether he knew that he could or not.

She'd never felt more cared for in her entire life.

A tear slipped down her cheek. She dunked under the water.

He was by the bathtub when she emerged, holding out a towel, eyes respectfully diverted from her.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Chuck asked.

Blair climbed out of the bath, wrapping the towel around herself.

"Yes."

The bell jar shattered around her.

Everything continues as in A.


End file.
